I am a writer, a gatherer of moments. I look for things that inspire, for drops of grace, for moments of beauty around me, so that I can capture them and pass them on. I see them often in my children. My mind records the snapshot with a “click,” and I return to it later and paint it with words.
And then I stop and wonder, why store moments? Why keep my eyes and hands open? What am I collecting memories for?
Moments stored do not fill.
If I am constantly looking to fill up my heart with moments, then what will I do when the kid needs a diaper change or a spanking? I will grumble. I will do the hard work of parenting quickly and with irritation. I resent the hard jobs, and I will work to create an ideal home life. I will seek the house filled with people who smile at each other and make only happy memories together. I will spend my days chasing the impossible, trying to fill myself up: a glutton for moments.
Moment stored do not lessen future pain.
Once, I tried to fill myself up with moments to avoid future pain. I feasted on every second with my dear husband before he left for his tour of duty in Iraq. I wanted to spend every second with him, as if I could stock up on him so that somehow I would miss him less when he was gone. I feasted on him, and still, he carried my heart with him when he got on that plane.
Moments stored may age like wine and bless us later.
I have started a savings account of moments for my children, too. They are fluttering through the days with no thought for gathering, so I will gather for them. I will collect a few bright spots from their childhoods and save them with the other keepsakes. I’d like them to be able to look back through my eyes and see that they were loved and blessed and cared-for by God. They already know that, but I hope to help them know it even more. We will be glad to gaze again on the faded beauty, and we will thank God even for the days of re-living. We will remember and re-thank.
Moments stored water my soul and help me to love.
But I don’t really gather moments for later. In picking them up, I savor them right now, because they help me love the people around me in this place, even today.
Living with open hands and open eyes is a way of keeping my antenna tuned to what is important: to God and the people around me. When those precious moments come, free to me, like grace, I drink them in.
And as I drink, I remember:
- I remember that the noisy, dirty creatures messing up my house each day are people, beloved by God, wonderful works of His hand.
- I remember that I am a child of God—weak, and loved.
- I remember that my Father sees me, knows me, cares for me.
- I remember that I am here to receive love and to love.
And the grace swallowed down waters my heart and makes it soft and grateful, even when my hands are in the dish water again.
| Thank you Jesus, for this moment. |
Weak and Loved: A Mother-Daughter Love Story by Emily Cook will be FREE for your kindle on Amazon July 15-19. (You do not have to own a kindle to read the digital version.) Get it HERE. Having trouble? Contact Emily.
How about you? Do you gather moments? Why do you gather them?
Emily Cook is an experienced child-wrangler and mother of six, who laughs and writes to keep her sanity. She is the author of Weak and Loved: A Mother-Daughter Love Story. Read more by Emily at www.weakandloved.com. She’s sure to make you laugh, think, pray, smile, or gag.
Mandy says
July 15, 2012 at 9:22 amHi, Emily! It’s exciting to read you over here at Allume! :):):) (Mandy from hissongtomeshalom.blogpot.com)